


Of All the Unlikely Things

by QuailiTea



Series: A Thread of Gossip [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Gen, Gossip, MFMM Year of Tropes, Post-Season/Series 03, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuailiTea/pseuds/QuailiTea
Summary: Mrs. Stanley has always found her niece to be a bit of a trial. And now she's gone haring off to the Empire, leaving chaos in her wake yet again. What is a devoted, if exasperated, aunt to do?





	Of All the Unlikely Things

The thing she hadn’t counted on, because her niece never did take gossip much to account, was that no matter how fast Phryne flew, no matter the speed or the weather or the day, rumor would always have a far lead on the truth, no matter how polite the society that passed it along. She was greeted at nearly every hospital board meeting, ladies’ luncheon, and well-bred soirée with something approaching the same: “Really Mrs. Stanley, whatever was your Miss Fisher thinking?” Prudence felt rather hard-pressed to answer that. On the face of it, Phryne had finally stepped up. After all, wasn’t she doing the daughterly thing, in her own, er… specific sort of way? Would nobody take her at her word that flying her father back to the arms of polite society needed to be done?

In point of fact, the answer was no. Everybody, right down to Melba Kruse, which was funny, at the heart of it, had seen and heard just a little too much of that man to believe for one iota of a second that the daring, irrepressible, exuberant Miss Fisher would have succumbed so fatally to something like basic familial duty. At least a few people were under the impression that she’d done a barrel roll just outside the Sydney harbor after cutting his seatbelt and the rest of the flight was pretext for getting away with it. A few more hinted, delicately, if Miss Fisher’s financial straits were dire enough to flee the country, that she was always welcome to stay, provided she kept her attentions on the unmarried men in the household. A third party had come to the equally considered conclusion that she must have been activated on State business, and while she was in Russia, would Mrs. Stanley pass on a request for some of that lovely vodka they made there? And so, the rumor mills had ground their grist both coarse and fine, and at least half of the workers had even done due diligence enough to wire directly to England.

In that and that only, had Prudence gotten the jump. She had gotten word from Albert that her brother-in-law was now fully invested in a course of action for perhaps the only time in his life, once Phryne’s wheels were off the ground, and immediately sent a telegram to her sister. She wanted to allay and uplift and scold all at once, but communication was difficult with her sister at the best of times. It was no use in lecturing, of course, she’d learned that much. She and Peg were stubborn as mules, though Prudence’s ideas of romance had taken perhaps less of a battering, on balance. Peg would be skeptical of everything until the very instant she had Henry back in her arms. Lord only knew why, but her sister would still welcome the man even if Prudence wired a minute account of his every misdeed. Instead, she sent:

_Phryne is flying Baron home for love of you STOP Don’t believe anything else but that STOP Pru_

Her sister had responded with surprise, but Prudence supposed she was a little gratified as well. It wasn’t a great gain, but having one’s husband back was, on balance, still a positive. Everything else in the aftermath was, she felt, rather fun. The hospital ladies fluttered and chattered like a coopful of chooks, and she harrumphed to the hilt at every insinuation, while maybe, once or twice, ‘accidentally’ influencing a few of the more fabulous stories. She particularly enjoyed the whisper that her niece well and truly had run off to the join the circus as she’d always threatened as a young girl, after selling her father as lion food to pay her ticket. That persistent Inspector had turned up as well, about two weeks and a half later, on some pretext or other. She’d enjoyed the conversation more than she had expected.

“I had come, Mrs. Stanley,” he’d said in his dour, rumbling way, “to return a few of the Baron’s things. Normally I’d give them to Miss Fisher, but…”

“Of course, Inspector.” He handed her the packet of items – odds and ends, letters, and a cravat of Henry’s that had gotten mixed up in the whole terrible business of the murderous cousin and Albert getting knocked out and all the rest of it.

“The rumor is, Mrs. Stanley,” he’d added as she examined the bag idly, “that your niece is planning on staying in England, for perhaps quite some time, even permanently. That she has some other… pressing business of yours to attend to while there.”

“Well, I can assure you Inspector, I have commissioned no such thing,” she replied starchily. The man had nerve, but then policemen were meant to be rather bold fellows. And the number of times she’d seen him looking at her niece across a crowded room as if he were of a mind to sweep her dashingly off her feet and into the nearest private alcove – well. Even now, his eyes were smiling, as if he knew more than he was letting on. “I would like to know what it is that would be so utterly pressing that I would have that kind of influence. She’s not known for listening to me.”

“Nor me either, Mrs. Stanley.” His eyes were definitely twinkling with mischief now, even as the rest of his face remained the perfect picture of a responsible authority. “But it is a wonderful tale, the suggestion that she was sent to London to woo someone in line for the Crown on your orders. Although the suggestion that she would then become a Marchioness, I immediately discarded as idle speculation.”

“The Crown?” She suppressed her own smile. “My goodness, the last time that story came around, it was only a foreign painter so I could have the family portraits done at cost.” She snapped the bag closed decisively. “I assure you, Inspector, and I say this knowing your circumspection,” Prudence paused thoughtfully. “My niece has been moved by the only thing that ever moves her. The ferocity of her own loyalty.” He was watching her closely, hungry for any news, and she felt a surprising flutter of affection for this poor man, who had certainly been more upstanding than her niece had any right to deserve, given her conduct. “If there is one thing you can always depend upon with Phryne, it is her backbone when it comes to those she loves.”

“She takes after her aunt in that,” he replied gallantly, and Mrs. Stanley, unwillingly, felt herself unbend as he took up his hat and turned to leave.

“Inspector,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. As he faced her, just for a moment, she spotted a look of hope in his face that made all those romantic girlhood notions warm in her heart once again. “My niece is wild, headstrong and heedless. If you think her worth the trouble, you will have all that you can handle and then some.” He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “That being said, if you need any help taking leave to go after her, I would be more than happy to bring my influence to bear. Your work at City South should not go unrewarded, after all.” The poor man stumbled on her front step when she said that, and very narrowly avoided sitting down into an urnful of begonias.

“I… I would appreciate that, Mrs. Stanley,” he stammered, attempting to regain his balance. “I had considered it, but the logistics…”

“No trouble at all, Inspector,” she said. “I do have some small influence, in my own way.” She saw him off, a little dazed, into his police vehicle, then returned to her fernery, the wheels already beginning to turn in her head. As she repotted a rose start, she felt a laugh bubbling in her chest. For once, she thought, for once, she might just surprise her niece, rather than the other way around. She hoped Peg would send a good account of Phryne’s face when she saw her policeman on the docks at Southampton. That would be worth every last penny Prudence could spend to make it happen.


End file.
